Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Last week we saw Stephen ride to Ruth's aid, but our happiness was short-lived by the end of the chapter. We pick up where we left off, with both unconscious Stephen and traitor Nicky to be dealt with. Some of you have expressed concern that the story has become too dark, and I agree. In an effort to keep the story about spanking, I have carefully redacted out passages that contained descriptions of humiliation and explicit sexual activity in the original manuscript. I hope the author will forgive me.

"I suppose you hoped that he would help you?" Robin sneered. "And you turned Nicky against me as well. Very clever, except that this oaf wasn't nearly clever enough. He didn't even think that we might have the grounds wired for intruders. He's been out there since the middle of last night but, once we were sure that he wasn't going to cause us any immediate problems, we decided to let him stew for a while. I asked Luc to bring him in just so that he could see what we have in mind for you, but the idiot tried to tough it out with Luc. Just in case you haven't worked it out yet, that is not a wise thing to do."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Ruth tried to bluff it out. "Who is he? What has this got to do with Nic-" Her reward for this interjection was a resounding slap on her bare bottom from Kim, causing her last word to be cut off by a gasp as the sting brought tears to her eyes.

"Don't be a fool," Robin said angrily. "I knew as soon as I saw him that he was on the course with you, here at Damocles. I recognised him from the video. The only mystery was how he came to be here. I guessed that Nicky had something to do with it, she was looking pretty shifty when we brought him in."

"Leave her alone. She's just a child. You've got me imprisoned - leave her out of this." Ruth knew her shout was a futile gesture but, despite her own predicament, she still felt responsible for Nicky's peril, even though the youngster had chosen to get involved with Robin's scheme of her own accord.

"Put a gag on her," Robin ordered sharply to Madam Karabengse. "We'll hear her singing to a different tune before long. He gestured at the prostrate Stephen. "Strip him naked and then make sure you tie him securely. We'll need to ask him a few questions later."

Robin Henderson turned his attention to Nicky, who shrank back in fright as his eyes narrowed. "Now then, you little traitor, let's see what you have to say for yourself. Put her over the birching bench, Madam K, and let's hear her sing."

Nicky turned to run, but was no match for the wiry housekeeper, who grabbed her and, assisted by her brothers, swiftly had Nicky secured across the birching bench, facing Ruth, her tear-filled eyes begging Ruth to help her. Of course, Ruth could do nothing. Bent over, her legs splayed and her most intimate parts wide open to attack, she could only watch, unable to even protest, as Robin stepped up to the birching bench and lifted Nicky's skirt high over her shoulders. There was a sound of ripping cotton as he tore the terrified youngster's panties from her hips. Then he stepped back, breathing heavily.

"Now I want to know what you had to do with him coming here." He pointed at Stephen , who was still out cold.

"Robin, I swear I had nothing to do with it," the terrified girl gasped. "Please let me go. Why are you doing this to me?"

"I don't believe you. She put you up to this, didn't she?" He pointed at Ruth.

"No! No, I don't know what you mean."

"We'll see about that. Luc, how would you like to show my pretty little friend here just what she's been missing? Give her a taste of what you gave her fancy school teacher friend last night."

The burly steward needed no second invitation. He swiftly unzipped his trousers and let them drop to the floor before stepping out of them. As he advanced on the terrified Nicky, Ruth had a clear view of his erect shaft rising from a forest of black hair. He stepped between Nicky's spread legs, his cock fiercely erect.

"Your last chance before he puts it in," Robin was at her head, his back to Ruth. "Admit you called that idiot here and I'll let you off."

"YES, YES!" The girl was hysterical and Ruth could not blame her. "Yes, I telephoned him, she made me do it. Oh God, Robin, don't let him do that to me!" Her frenzied sobbing made her words difficult to understand.

"Very well, Luc. I'll have to ask you to wait." Luc did not look at all happy at being made to back off, but Robin's hold on him was powerful. With a grunt of disgust he backed away.

"Madam K, take this little bitch back to her room and lock her up." Robin ordered. "And don't think I've finished with you yet," he snarled at his sobbing ex-girlfriend, as she was released from the bench. "You might have avoided Luc's gentle attentions, but I'm going to thrash that juicy little arse of yours red raw when I've finished with your teacher friend."

He gestured at Ruth. "But, first of all, I'm going to teach Miss Jamieson a lesson she won't forget in a hurry." Madam Karabengse took a firm grip on Nicky's arm and led her away, still sobbing pitifully, as Robin continued to rap out orders.

"You two, put him over the bench, tie him down then wake him up." Kim and Luc jumped to obey and, in a matter of seconds, Stephen's naked body was being tied face down over the bench just vacated by Nicky. To Ruth's great relief, it was not long before her would be rescuer began to show signs of life, as Kim and Luc repeatedly drenched his head in cold water from a bucket which Luc had fetched for the purpose. Stephen's eyelids flickered then opened as consciousness returned.

"Nice of you to rejoin us." Robin's voice was heavy with contempt.

He had picked up a riding crop which Ruth recognised as the one Reverend Mould had threatened to use for his so called advanced course; three feet of menacing, black, plaited leather, laced over with a stiff core and terminating in a loop of leather about an inch wide.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Stephen's voice was slurred as if he had not fully woken from a deep sleep.

"I'm called Robin, and you are in my power. That is really all you need to know at present. " Robin curled his lip in scorn. "What is much more important to me is that I should know who you are and why you are here." The riding crop was being held out towards Stephen, the leather loop at the end rubbing up and down under his chin.

"Why should I tell you anything? Let me go at once!"

"The reason why you should tell me what I want to know is that, if you do not, you, and more especially, your lady friend here, will be made to suffer." The riding crop was removed from Stephen's chin then suddenly, with no further warning, lashed down across his bare buttocks.

Ruth closed her eyes in sympathy at Stephen's plight. She had thought that the caning she had been given the night before was the worst thing she had ever experienced, but it must pale into insignificance against the fire which was now being lit in Stephen's bottom. Again and again Robin sliced at his captive's upturned rear, all the time demanding answers to his questions.

"Please, Master Robin, you must be careful not to damage the merchandise." Madam Karabengse's voice was genuinely concerned. She had returned silently from her mission of imprisoning Nicky, and now seemed about to take charge again.

"How are we going to get information out of them if I can't hurt them?" Robin was like a petulant child. Ruth looked at Stephen, his face still contorted in pain.

"No, Master Robin,"Madam Karabengse chided. "I did not say you could not hurt; only that you must not damage. There are ways." She drew Robin to one side and whispered something in his ear. He looked sharply at Ruth and, with a sinking feeling, she realised that Robin was going to turn his attention to her.

"It seems that Madame K has plans for both you and your gentleman friend as he seems to be a good physical specimen, "Robin said with a sardonic grin. "But I promised you last night I'd make you suffer for what you did to me and Nicky, and now you've taken her away from me as well, you stuck-up bitch!"

Robin had been standing directly in front of Ruth as he had been speaking, with one hand behind his back. The concealed hand held the crop. Now he brought it forward in an underarm sweep between the uprights of the pillory; making the crop whirrr as it slashed through the air. The thin shaft was horizontal when it made contact with Ruth's body, exactly bisecting her torso, making a ruler straight line between her breasts, down her belly, and across her navel. She gave a piercing scream, recognisable even through the gag, as the leather loop at the end of the whip curled round viciously between her legs.

"Now I'll show you just what it means to be humiliated. You haven't experienced the half of it yet. " As Robin spoke, he flicked the crop twice, the loop at the end dealing Ruth a slap across each nipple, setting her breasts swinging wildly.

"Now I'm going to let Kim and Luc have fun with both of you for a while then, when they're done, I'll come back and ask you some questions. If I don't get the answers I want, then we'll start all over again and things could get even worse for you. They are all yours, Madame K. I'll just sit back and watch the fun."

"What the hell is going on here?" A new voice, which she couldn't recognise yet seemed somehow familiar, came from somewhere behind her.

"Father?" It was Robin who spoke in surprise.

Ruth was stunned. Sir Harold Henderson? What was he doing here? She suddenly wanted to cry. Although she was relieved, she was, mentally, as taut as a bowstring. The application of the crop followed by Kim's tantalising but ultimately unsatisfying entry combined to raise her nerves to the jangling edges of tolerance. The fear, pain and anticipation which she had endured over the last few hours made a heady cocktail which was almost more than flesh and blood could stand.

"I said, what the hell is going on here? When I told you that you could run Damocles as you wanted, I didn't mean you could use it for your poxy orgies. Nor did I intend you to use it for petty revenge." Sir Harold was clearly furious.

"I'm sorry, Father, but I didn't think you'd mind. After all you did say you'd put in a complaint against this cow." Robin gestured at Ruth. "So I didn't think you'd mind if I had some fun with her. I had it all arranged. Madam K was going to ship her to Thailand afterwards, so there would have been no comebacks. Only she went and spoiled it by getting this guy to help her. Except, of course, he proved to be useless."

"You bloody fool, you wouldn't have got away with it. Don't you realise that you haven't got the organisation to accomplish that sort of thing. It takes resources to manage something like that. You haven't the faintest idea how to go about it. It's a good job Madam K kept me informed all along."

Ruth listened to the family argument, eagerly waiting to be released. She gargled frantically into the gag. Surely Sir Harold had to release her first, before continuing the argument with his son?

"OK, so what should we do with her now?" Robin's voice was petulant.

"There's only one thing TO do; we'll have to finish off what you began. It's no good sending her to Thailand though, as that will take time which we haven't got. No I'm sorry, Madam K. I know you were hoping for some new recruits, but this one will be missed sooner rather than later. We just don't have time to organise the transport to Asia."

"You are right, Sir Harold, as always." Madam Karabengse was deferential to the point of being obsequious. "It is a pity - this one had a rare talent. She would have been a good addition to my uncle's stock." Ruth gave a grunt of indignation from behind the gag. This was her they were talking about, not some lifeless piece of meat on a slab! Sir Harold's next words drove home to her the sickening realisation that she may as well have been just that!

"We'll ship her to Africa. It just so happens that I've been doing business with some very influential people over there. I might have a container ship leaving Liverpool tomorrow night with a consignment to Lagos. It'll be no trouble to get these two in the helicopter and ferry them out as the ship works its way down St. George's Channel. The captain will do as he's told and I can fax my contacts at the African end to receive them."

Ruth was suddenly, grimly aware that Sir Harold was in a different league to his son. His easy manipulation of the trappings and tools of power was visible proof of that. Far from being out of trouble, she realised that she and Stephen had just passed from the control of a psychopathic youth to the clutches of a powerful and ruthless man, used to getting his own way and with plenty of resources to achieve it. In a matter of minutes, their peril had increased tenfold.

What shall we do with them in the mean time?" Robin was trying to re-assert himself.

"Oh, just leave them here for now. You can untie one of his hands. I imagine it will take him quite a while to get free and release the girl. It will give them something to look forward to while they are waiting." He laughed heartily. "Just be sure that they can't escape or make enough noise to attract attention. You'd better give them some food, I suppose, but don't give them their clothes back. They're less likely to do anything stupid while they're naked."

"They won't cause trouble, Sir Harold." It was Kim who spoke. "This one -" he gestured contemptuously at Stephen who was slumped in his bonds, a picture of demoralised despair, "- knows he will get worse if he causes trouble. And this one -" he turned to Ruth "- she knows only too well what will happen to her."

He gave a deep belly-laugh and swung his hand, in a wide, hay-making arc, to connect with Ruth's bare bottom, the resounding crack echoing through the room. "Don't you, miss?" His hand was still resting across her smarting buttocks. Ruth squirmed helplessly. "Pity we could not finish what we started."

So Ruth's hopes have been dashed once more. Things looked so promising for a moment.

Monday, May 29, 2017

What happens to your spanking life when sad or unfortunate events occur in real life?

Anon: It puts spanking on the back burner, personal more so than wordly
events. If I get too carried away especially with world events, rant
and rave, normally she will just get the hairbrush, I normally stop, a
rare occasions I have felt the sting of the hairbrush.

Roz: We have found that spanking tends to fall by the wayside at times like
this. All focus is on the issue and any energy or inclination for
spanking fades.

Fondles: Same here. Spanking is forgotten when there is a lot of stuff going on. Personal more than world events, that is.

Ronnie: Same for us. Spanking is put on the back burner when we have a lot of personal things going on.

Hermione: Ron tends to put spanking aside in order to deal with the circumstances. I, on the other hand, crave a spanking. It gives me a temporary escape from emotional pain and puts me in a better frame of mind, so I can handle the grief better.Thank you to all who joined in this weekend.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Welcome one and all to our regular weekend spanko brunch, where the topic of conversation is...you guessed it, spanking!

Into each life some rain must fall, and not every day is filled with sunshine. There are the catastrophic events that rock the world and affect us all, like the tragic event in Manchester early this week. There are also the personal troubles and trials that each of us must endure: the illness or passing of a loved one, the end of a relationship, a beloved child leaving home, job loss—you get the idea.

How do troubling or sad events affect your spanking life? Is spanking put on hold, or is it stepped up? Does the desire for spanking increase or decrease at times like this? What effect, if any, does spanking have? Does it help or hinder?

Leave your reply as a comment and I will publish a summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to speak.

Saturday, May 27, 2017

kdpierre: "Oh, why's there never a bee-keeper around when you need one?"

Despite her meticulous arranging, Millie now worried she'd end up as one 'sorry-assed bouquet'...literally.

(Hermione: I just researched this cute picture and learned that there is
an entire series of these.......and that the curvy young lady is named
"Hilda"! But I'll bet YOU already knew that. Great stuff!) I did know that, and have quite a few of her pictures for future use.

Leigh: Am I going to be stung?

Anon 2: Oooooooooh, sweetheart, I know you said you'd spank me if you caught me
wearing this outfit on the beach, but you're not really going to use
that hairbrush on me right here in front of everyone, are you?

What do you mean these flowers would stand out more against a RED background?

Tex: "Normally, Hilda here's a gal who isn't particularly fond of a good
flyswatter spanking. I'm guessing she might have a change of heart oh,
about three or four seconds from RIGHT NOW!"

js666: Hilda's mother had promised her a spanking if she kept going to the
nudist colony, and the last thing she wanted was a sunburn on her
bottom. But she couldn't wear a bathing suit under the club rules. Not
to worry -- she'd just pile some flowers in the critical place.

Oh crap! A bunch of bee stings would be even worse than a sunburn.

Sir Wendel: Hilda would soon find out that daisies did not provide enough protection from the strap.

Ronnie: Ouch, I hate having a bee sting, much rather have a sting from a spanking.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Last week, Ruth pondered the after effects of her severe punishment and wondered if she would ever escape the clutches of the evil Robin. She has convinced Robin's girlfriend Nicky to call Stephen, but will help arrive before she undergoes yet another humiliating chastisement?

Half-walking, half-dragged, Ruth followed Kim out of the room, thankful that there was no one else to see her nakedness as she was ushered along the landing and down the stairs. Arriving at the hall, Kim opened the door with one hand, keeping a tight hold on Ruth with the other. Entering the room, she was surprised and frightened to find that only Kim's brother, Luc, was present. The idea of being left to the mercies of these two implacable stewards was beyond Ruth's wildest nightmares. Surely, she thought, Robin can't have tired of the idea of revenge so soon? He can't have left and maybe taken Nicky with him, before she had chance to get help? She recognised the bitter irony; she now regarded the prospect of a further thrashing from Robin as being, in a strange twist, a safeguard against even worse treatment from the Karabengses.

Luc was smiling evilly as his brother half-dragged Ruth towards the antique pillory which she had spotted on her first visit to the priory. He had already lifted the top plank out of its slot, and Ruth tried to hold back as she realised that they intended that she be locked into this ancient device. She might as well have tried to resist the tide coming in. Kim dragged her towards the old timber frame and Luc grabbed her free hand. Together, the two men forced her into the slightly stooped position which the height of the pillory required her to adopt. Kim held one of her wrists in position and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, forcing her head down, while Luc slammed her other wrist into the corresponding hole in the cross beam. With a thud, the heavy timber of the yoke slammed into position, and the two pins which held it were swiftly inserted. Ruth felt a terrific wave of claustrophobia wash over her. The slots in the yoke of the pillory were lined with a soft leather band so that the coarse-grained wood did not actually chafe her skin, but the feeling of utter helplessness was totally overwhelming.

She felt strong hands grasping her legs and almost choked as she stumbled, forcing her body weight to come on to her neck, held firmly in the yoke of the pillory. Taking a leg each, Kim and Luc yanked her ankles forward, simultaneously spreading her legs wide. She immediately felt stout leather straps being buckled to her ankles to retain them in place. With her head restrained about six inches lower than was natural, Ruth's back was arched, her bottom thrust out in a most vulnerable and uncomfortable position.

"Ah, I see my brothers have been taking care of you." Madam Karabengse's voice came from somewhere to Ruth's right, and she craned her head to try and see where the woman was standing.

"Why am I being held like this? What are you going to do to me?" If Ruth's voice betrayed alarm, it was still understating her true feelings. Never, in her entire life, had she experienced the mixture of emotions which were running through her at this moment. She was utterly vulnerable, and the awareness that she was literally wide open to both physical and sexual assault both horrified and tantalised her.

* * *

Stephen had been thinking about bed when the telephone rang. It was very late - almost midnight, in fact - but, living alone with no one else to consider, that did not bother him. What was bothering him, the reason why he had sat up for so long, were the recurring images of the events at Damocles Priory. He might have been less troubled had he realised that he was not the only one to be affected by the Reverend Mould's unconventional course. However, he had not been as fortunate as Ruth in having a stable home relationship and enough job satisfaction at work to distract him, and so had steadily become more and more introverted and self-doubting since leaving the priory.

Superintendent Mathews had thought that he was encouraging Stephen by making lewd remarks about the sights that he must have witnessed at Damocles.

"I do hope that, now you've thrashed a few bare arses yourself, you won't be so soft with some of the young thugs we have to deal with." He dug Stephen in the ribs. "Were there any nice young fillies there? To tell you the truth, young Langton, I think perhaps I might have been a bit quick in my judgment the other week. That young niece of mine, Sally, has been getting a bit big for her boots just lately. I know you two have been eyeing each other up over the last few months. No it's no use denying it." He dug Stephen in the ribs again, his air of false 'we're all boys together' making Stephen's stomach churn. "All I was going to say was, well, if one night you cared to find a quiet spot while you're out in the patrol car, and you wanted to practise what you were taught at Damocles by putting that young lady across your knee, I for one wouldn't blame you. I don't reckon you'd get too many objections from her either, provided you went about it the right way and made it up to her afterwards, if you know what I mean." The stage wink which he gave Stephen was so contrived that Stephen had to look away to conceal his disgust.

"I'll think about that, sir, I really will." It was no less than the truth; he would think about it, but he could hardly reveal his real thoughts to the older man. Although he couldn't really make up his mind, the fact of the matter was that Stephen had found that being caned by Ruth was every bit as much of a turn-on as his use of the birch on her gloriously spread bottom-cheeks. He had not realised what was happening, at first, but the longer he thought about it, the easier it was for him to reconcile his feelings .

All this, and more, had been churning through his brain, over and over again, when the jangle of the telephone startled him and he jerked back to reality.

"Langton," he mumbled into the handset.

"Is that...Mr. Langton?" It was a girl's voice, unfamiliar. She sounded young and agitated.

"What kind of trouble? Look, just who are you and how did you get this number?" Like most policemen, Stephen was careful about who he gave out his private, ex-directory number to.

"There isn't time for a long explanation. Miss Jamieson said you would help her. She said to tell you to come to Damocles Priory, that you'd understand."

Understanding was certainly not on Stephen's agenda at that point, but the mention of Damocles Priory certainly got his attention and gave the call some credibility.

"Please say you'll come. Please." The voice at the other end of the line sounded really desperate.

"All right, but you'll have to give me some more information."

"There isn't time, there just isn't time. They might find me here at any minute and then I'm in deep trouble too. Look, if somebody doesn't help her soon it'll be too late and she'll finish up in a brothel in Thailand. I must go now, but don't be too long. Please come quickly." There was a click, followed by the dial tone.

Stephen replaced the handset. He knew that something was wrong, very wrong, but what was he to do about it? Damocles Hall was well outside his area of jurisdiction and, although the mention of Thailand and a brothel in the same context was totally convincing to him, he knew that he could never convince Superintendent Mathews, who had never seen the sinister Thais who staffed Damocles Priory. The best he could hope for was that his chief would agree to a request to the local force to send an officer along to make a routine enquiry and, from what the girl on the phone had said, that might be far too late. The only thing to do is to get down there myself, he thought, but I'd better arrange some back-up just in case.

Quickly, he thumbed through a note-pad which he kept by the phone. When he had first returned from Damocles, he had entertained some crazy idea about making contact with Ruth again, and had gone to the lengths of finding out both her telephone number and that of Tony Chalmers. He had no idea what he was thinking of achieving, and had soon realised it was a hopeless quest, but the numbers were still there.

Feverishly, he dialled Ruth's number first, just in case it was a practical joke. If Ruth answered, then he could just put the phone down, without speaking, and then he'd have to get his own number changed again, to prevent any more nuisance calls. The phone rang, three times. Then his heart gave a leap as, unmistakably, Ruth's voice answered.

"Hello. This is Ruth. I'm not available right now so please leave a message after the tone."

Stephen took a deep breath. Silly of me. Never gave a thought to an answering machine. He replaced the receiver without speaking, then dialled Tony Chalmers's number. This time he was more prepared and, when the voice on the other end identified itself as a recording, he was able to leave a sensible if enigmatic message saying that if Tony was unaware of Ruth's whereabouts he should get himself and a squad down to Damocles Priory as soon as possible. Acting on a whim, he did not identify himself.

It took only a few minutes for Stephen to get kitted up in his motorcycle gear but, just as he was about to lock the door, he decided to make one last check and rang Ruth's number again. This time, he did leave a message on the tape.

The journey to Damocles was easy; the powerful bike ate up the miles, unimpeded by any traffic, and, by two thirty in the morning, Stephen was in place, crawling through the undergrowth at the edge of the priory grounds. He had carefully hidden his motor cycle, covered in bracken, in a gully just off the road near the main gate.

Now that he was in the priory grounds, Stephen began to wonder just what he was going to do next. He couldn't just march up to the front door, in the middle of the night, with no legal authority, and say "Have you got Miss Ruth Jamieson here?" The only option open to him was to wait and see if there were any suspicious signs when it got light and then, if necessary, try to get some evidence that would convince the authorities to take action. Creeping up to the edge of the tree line, he saw the main building, perhaps fifty yards away across the lawn. Everything was in darkness and he was thankful that his motor cycle kit, designed to keep out the gales of a 150mph slipstream, was well lined and warm. He made himself as comfortable as he could and settled down to wait. It was going to be a long night.

In reality, he had to wait for only about three hours before the grey dawn light began to put some detail into the dark shadows he had been watching. Anyone who thinks a town is noisy at night should do this at least once in their lives, Stephen thought to himself. The cacophony of sounds which had kept him awake and alert for the last few hours had been alien to his townsman's ears; from the hooting of the owl in the trees behind him to the coughing which had made him think he was not the only one watching the house. He had almost laughed out loud with relief when the fox had padded silently across the lawn, paused to look directly at his hiding place, then barked again, the sound exactly like an asthmatic smoker. Stiffly, he eased himself into a better position, and began to wish he had brought some food and drink with him instead of setting out in such a hurry on this scatterbrained scheme.

During the course of the morning he made a cautious exploration of the woods which separated the grounds of the priory from the surrounding fields. By a stroke of luck, at the back edge of the woods to the rear of the house there was a galvanised trough, no doubt for the benefit of the cattle which he could see gathered on the far side of the adjoining field. The trough was fed from a stand-pipe and, although the water which emerged as he turned the tap had been pretty rust-coloured at first, it had cleared after a few seconds, allowing Stephen to slake his thirst, albeit with some concerns about what it might do to his gut later.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, Stephen manoeuvred himself around the building, trying to obtain a better vantage point. Whichever way he looked at the building, it seemed boringly normal. At about nine in the morning, a young man had emerged from the front door, walked to the side of the building, and a few moments later re-emerged driving a flashy-looking Japanese sports car, which he had driven off, rather fast and noisily, down the lane. At about three in the afternoon, the same car had returned. The young man had abandoned it on the drive at the front of the building and gone inside. Apart from that, Stephen had seen the housekeeper and at least one of her thuggish brothers, whom Stephen had difficulty telling apart. But they had simply been performing routine domestic chores, appearing from time to time at one or another of the windows, and once, emerging briefly from a side door to put some rubbish in the bin outside. Everything was totally, crushingly, normal.

A movement in one of the upper windows caught his eye. He could see a pale shape behind the glass, and cursed that he had not brought any binoculars with him. The rays of the sun, lowering in the sky as the door wore on, glinted on the window, blotting out the shape momentarily, then, as a cloud drifted across the sky, for a brief two or three seconds the sun was obscured and the glass became fully transparent. It was Ruth! Stephen stiffened with excitement. It was not a hoax after all! She was standing facing directly out of the window and, as far as he could tell at that distance, was unharmed. But she was plainly, deliciously, tantalisingly naked. For a moment he forgot why he was there, and entertained a rapid mental slide show of suggestive images. Then the cloud drifted on and Ruth disappeared behind the sun's reflection as swiftly as she had been revealed.

With a new sense of purpose, Stephen withdrew into the deeper cover of the trees. It wouldn't do to be caught now, just when things were starting to happen. Returning to the spot where he had hidden his bike, he rummaged in the pannier, fetching out the small tool kit which he always carried. The biggest screwdriver in the kit was still a flimsy thing, but might be better than nothing if it came to breaking in. Swiftly, he cleared away the covering of bracken he had used to hide the bike and heaved the machine upright. He looked around, checking that there was no one within earshot. Then he inserted the key and started the engine. Thankfully, it fired first time, and the big motor immediately settled into a smooth, purring tick-over. If he and Ruth were going to make a rapid getaway, he needed to be sure he could rely on the machinery not to let them down. The thought of Ruth, naked as a baby, clinging to her gallant rescuer as they tore down the lane both excited him and made him smile.

His rising ego and the noise of the bike engine combined to confound his romantic dream. He never heard a sound as Luc crept behind him, his broad hands extended in classic karate pose. Bike and rider tumbled into an untidy heap in the bottom of the gully as the heel of Luc's calloused hand hit Stephen just behind the right ear.

* * *

Ruth stood, squirming in anticipation, futilely testing the strength of her bonds. After waiting for several agonising minutes, she heard a commotion outside the door, which suddenly burst open. Nicky was roughly pushed in, followed by Robin Henderson and Madam Karabengse. Robin angrily pushed his erstwhile partner across the room and Madam Karabengse was quick to follow, grabbing the girl's arms and holding them tightly behind her back. As this trio cleared the door, another figure appeared. Luc had evidently been out in the grounds because his shoes were muddied and there were green stains at the knees of his trousers, as if he had slipped or fallen on wet grass.

However this did not hold Ruth's attention for more than a movement. Her horror-struck gaze was riveted to the burden which Luc carried like a sack, slung over his shoulder. As he leaned forward to deposit his load on the floor, she saw, to her utter dismay, that it was the unconscious body of Stephen Langton.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Amy: I had to look up what birching was. Google, an amazing thing. Intrigued is where I ended up and if Eric was game, I'd try it. In particular, my interest was piqued when I read a story about a Victorian girl who had to prepare her own birching implement. I've always wondered how much the anticipation of a spanking would be increased by having to go out and find, get or make whatever would be used to dish out a punishment.

Simon: I have been birched several times and have been lucky enough to have birched a delightful lady once. The sensation is very different to a cane as the separate switches spread out in flight and cover quite a lot of the the target, also unless you are very careful the twigs will wrap round striking the thigh and hip. The pain initially does not seem that bad but it builds in intensity very quickly and I would suggest that a full size birch is only for very experienced receivers of punishment. However a small birch composed of light thin twigs under a foot long is ideal for punishing parts of the body even more sensitive than the buttocks. Another problem with birches is that bits break off during the punishment so after my birching I can often be found with a bare backside vacuuming the carpet—a sight guaranteed to cause hilarity in any watchers.

Leigh: Never been birched. To me, it's always seemed pretty harsh, although,
like everything else it depends on those doing the birching, I guess.

Domhnall: I was birched once. The wrap around is hard to avoid and can be very painful. Bee stings come to mind.

Anon: I would probably regret it, but would try it if I had with the right playmate.

Samuel: I was birched five times by my grandfather. One time my own father watched as his dad made me feel the full extent of his wrath. The was the hardest thing to have my dad witness my shame. I should add that the last time I was a boy of 16 and was made to go out and gather the branches that Gramps used on me.

Ronnie: I have been birched and have no desire to try it again. Wrap round
happens. I agree with Domhnall the Second, does feel like bee stings.

Hermione: I have read quite a few birching scenes in the Victorian magazine, The Pearl. As Amy mentioned, the preparation of the birch is often part of the punishment and adds to the anticipation. However, descriptions of birchings were all too often over the top; rather bloody, in fact, and blood is one of my hard limits. I can think of other forms of punishment that appeal to me more, and am in no hurry to try it.

Thank you all for expressing your feelings on this subject. See you next week!

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Welcome, dear friends, to our weekly spanko brunch. Here in Canada we are enjoying a long weekend in honour of Queen Victoria's birthday on May 24. It's the traditional weekend for us Northerners to plant our gardens without fear of frost, and the garden centres are hives of activity. To celebrate, I offer you a slice of Victoria sponge.

Speaking of the Victorians, we are currently watching a television series in which a London Victorian slum has been recreated, and several families have volunteered to live in it. Each week they experience life as it was in a Victorian slum, starting in 1860 and moving ahead 10 years each week. They wear the clothing, eat the food, and do the jobs of that time period, and it all seems very realistic—and terribly miserable. Can't pay the rent? Then it's the doss house for you. Out you go!

Naturally I am wondering if there will ever be a reenactment of the corporal punishments typical in the Victorian era. Birching comes to mind, and I suspect my hope is in vain.

What are your thoughts on birching? Have you ever wanted to experience it? Have you ever actually tried it? How did that go? When you read fiction that includes a description of birching, does it interest you, or is it something you would rather not read about? Have you seen a video of a birching?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish your thoughts once everyone has had a chance to speak.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Simon: Ella thought it was very cruel of Henri to make her do cornertime whilst he was off enjoying himself at the Moulin Rouge.

kdpierre: "What an odd little man," Giselle thought. "Usually when a guy pays me
to take off my clothes I end up doing more than just gazing at my
reflection! Ah, but the absinthe is tasty, so c'est la vie!"

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

The future was looking mighty bleak for Ruth last week, but our heroine is quite a resourceful individual and is not giving in to the whims of ruthless Robin.

Ruth lay on the bed, waiting for something to happen. She tried to work out how much time had passed since her abduction. It was difficult to know because she had been unconscious for some of the time, but she thought that it must be almost forty-eight hours. After Kim had dumped her on the bed and locked her in, she had cried herself into a fitful sleep, which she guessed must have lasted an hour or so. When she awoke her first reaction had been to have a shower.

What hurt more than the bruises, she realised, was the insight into her own psyche: the knowledge that, as she was being caned, one corner of her mind was actually relishing what was happening to her, even as the conventional side of her was recoiling in horror. She hated herself for it but, as each stinging stroke of Robin Henderson's merciless punishment had sent fresh shock waves shuddering through her lower body, she had felt herself reacting, craving more and more punishment. And, although she had not anticipated it, she was disgusted to realise how she had reacted to what followed...

While she dried herself, she was surprised to hear the key scrape in the lock. Wrapping the towel around herself to instinctively cover her nakedness, she cowered in the corner of the room, fearful that one, or both, of the brothers had come to use her body again. To her intense relief, it was Nicky's slim form that slipped into the room.

"What do you want?" Ruth did not disguise the anger in her voice when she saw that her former pupil was alone.

"Robin says I can give you some food." Nicky held out a tray covered by a white napkin. Ruth eyed the tray, tempted to lash out and knock it from the younger girl's hands. The urge to give way to her anger was offset by the awareness that it was a long time since she had eaten. She decided that common sense should prevail, and gestured to the bed.

"Put it down there." She made her tone as icy as possible.

"Ruth...Miss Jamieson.." Nicky's voice was hesitant and timid.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry for what happened. I didn't know what they were going to do to you, honest I didn't."

"So 'sorry' makes it all right then, does it?"

"No, of course not. I mean...well I really mean it. I am just so sorry. Don't you see? I just don't know the words." The girl was clearly close to tears.

"Welcome to the real world, Nicky," Ruth said bitterly. "'Sorry' doesn't cut it, and it doesn't undo what you took part in either. What's done can't be undone."

"I know that, miss, but I don't know how to make things better. Oh please, miss, it's all gone so terribly wrong! It seemed like just a bit of a lark at first, and you did hurt me terribly when you and Mr. Fullerton caned me. I was angry and I wanted to get my own back. Oh, it was wrong, I know that now, but it seemed as if we could get away with it and not much lasting harm done. Robin was so confident and convincing...and I thought he loved me. Oh, it's all got so out of hand." She began to sob, the cries wracking her body in a series of shudders which ran right through her, shaking her from top to toe.

Ruth was not inclined to let Nicky off lightly, but it was not in her nature to be vindictive, and the sight of the girl in such deep distress did not help her own plight.

"If you really want to make things better, you can help, you know," she said, hopefully.

"How?" The word was choked out on another sob.

"You could get us out of here, or contact someone who can."

"I can't do that. Robin would never let me, and in any case, I won't call the police. It is the police you mean, isn't it? If they get involved we'll all be locked up. I couldn't face that and it would kill my parents. I'm sorry, miss, I couldn't do that, no matter what."

"Nicky, have you any idea what they are planning for me if you don't get some help?" Ruth tried not to let the desperation show in her voice.

"Yes, but Robin said you really enjoyed it...you know...being beaten. He showed me the video that Mould made. He said it was perfectly obvious how much you were enjoying it. That's why I thought it would be OK when he first suggested that we give you the cane. Just a return on what you gave us."

This revelation made Ruth colour up as deeply as at any time over the last few weeks. The knowledge that her once-favourite pupil had actually seen her in such a humiliating position, had actually detected that she had drawn some deep, not yet fully understood, pleasure from her subjection to corporal punishment, was the most deeply shaming insight she'd yet had to face.

"Nicky, listen to me. I don't know what you thought you saw on that video. Maybe it didn't show me in the best possible light but, like I said, what's been done can't be undone. That applies to me as well as to you. Perhaps I have made some mistakes lately and perhaps one of those mistakes was in punishing you too harshly. Believe me, Nicky, I never intended to be unjust, but in the real world mistakes happen, miscalculations happen. All I'm asking is that you don't make another one, one that you'll really be sorry for. You are a decent girl and it will ruin the rest of your life. Do you know they are planning to send me into slave labour in Thailand, never to be heard of again. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Nicky looked doubtful but she was clearly wavering. Ruth could see that her impassioned plea was having some effect on the girl and her hopes rose.

"I-I don't see what I can do. I won't call the police."

It was Ruth's turn to think hard. How could she get help, in a way that would not frighten Nicky into betraying herself to Robin Henderson. Then she had a brainwave.

"Nicky, when you saw the video of me, when I was here before at Damocles, were there any other people on the video apart from the Reverend Mould?"

"Well, yes, the tape had two other women and a man. You all got punished one way or another, and Robin said you all seemed to be really into it, or you wouldn't have been there. Although it didn't look as if one of the other ladies was enjoying it much, the thin one, I mean."

Ignoring the embarrassing implications of Nicky's insight into the pleasure she had taken from having her bottom beaten, Ruth concentrated on her objective. "Nicky, if I gave you the telephone number of the man on the video, would you contact him for me? He knows where this place is so there is no problem of giving directions, so he could organise some help, if you just told him I was in trouble."

Ruth was careful, of course, not to mention what Stephen Langton did for a living, and Nicky, after a moment's hesitation, fell into the trap. "All right," she said hesitantly, "I suppose that would be OK. What's his number?"

Ruth's spirits sank. She had not bothered to memorise the number on the card, she had never expected to make contact with him again.

"It's on a card, in my purse. Do you know what happened to all my things?"

"All your clothes and belongings are still downstairs, in the main hall. Robin said to leave them there - he said you wouldn't be needing your clothes for a while." Nicky looked uncomfortable, aware that her teacher was covered only by a towel.

"Can you get to them? Is my purse still there, do you know?"

"Yes, I think so." Nicky was hesitant. "I can try."

"Good girl. When you find my purse, look inside it. There is a card, like a business card, with the name Stephen Langton on it, and his home telephone number. Phone Stephen and tell him where I am. You don't have to tell him all the details, it would take too long. Just say that I am in desperate trouble and I need his and Tony's help. Tony is my boyfriend. They will know what to do."

"All right, I'll try, but you must promise that you'll do your best to help Robin, whatever happens."

Ruth wondered how on earth she could reassure the girl without deliberately lying to her. After a moment she said: "Nicky, I won't lie to you. You have to trust me. You and Robin have done something very wrong and sooner or later you will have to face the consequences. All I can promise is that my experiences over the last few weeks have made me very careful about injustices, and, if you help me now, I'll do all I can to help you in return."

The worry on Nicky's face lifted a little and she stared into the eyes of her teacher.

"I appreciate that very much, miss. You've always been straight with me and anyway I wouldn't have believed you if you'd said we'd get away with it. OK I'll do what I can to help. Now I'd better go or Robin and the others will get suspicious. Oh, by the way," she added as an afterthought, just as she turned to the door, "I put a jar on your tray. It has some stuff called Moon Balm in it. Madam Karabengse and her brothers say that it is very good at soothing pain. I thought you might need it."

Ruth smiled her appreciation. "That was a kind thought. It is good stuff and I could certainly use some right now. If they ask why you have been so long with me, just tell them that you were helping to massage it in for me."

* * *

Almost a full day had elapsed since the brief meeting with Nicky had raised Ruth's hopes. After the girl had left the room, Ruth had inspected the tray, which contained a few sandwiches as well as the Moon Balm. She had decided that her hunger was worse than the throbbing inside her bottom, which had been greatly reduced by Luc's application of the balm as a lubricant, so she attacked the food first. Afterwards, with nothing else to do to pass the time, she had applied the balm to all the areas that still ached. The massage had brought back all the memories she had unconsciously erased from her mind and, despite her situation, she was amazed to find that she was becoming aroused again. Eventually sleep overcame her, and by the time she woke up the sun was streaming through the window.

At first Ruth had not known where she was and had sat bolt upright on the bed, puzzled by her unfamiliar surroundings and the fact that she had no clothes on. Then it all came back to her and she realised with a heavy heart that she was still a captive. She tried again to work out how long it had been since her abduction. With a shock, she realised that, as her caning by Robin had taken place in the early evening, and it had been evening when she was taken from in front of her own house, she must, somehow, have lost a full day. The knowledge that so much time had passed deeply depressed her, and the thought that, even if Nicky managed to phone for help, it was unlikely to arrive for several hours depressed her even more.

Suddenly there was a noise, the key turning in the lock, and Ruth saw the door handle begin to turn. She grabbed the towel from where it had fallen and did her best to cover herself. The stony-faced Madam Karabengse came into the room, closely followed by Kim, who stopped just inside the door and stood impassively, clearly there to prevent any attempt at escape. Madam Karabengse was carrying another tray, which she put down on the bedside table.

"It is good to see you awake and alert," she said, her voice betraying no hint of compassion. "We do not want our merchandise damaged before you get to Thailand. I have brought you some more food as I don't want you to feel we are starving you - but first I want to inspect the damage from last night."

"You must stop being such a silly girl, " responded Madam Karabengse. "I am your mistress now, and you do as I say. You turn around now and face the wall. Let the towel drop."

"I will NOT!" Ruth was ready to fight.

Madam Karabengse spoke a few words to her brother, her voice leaving no doubt as to her intentions, even if Ruth could not understand what was said. The stocky Kim carefully locked the door and handed the key to his sister, before advancing on Ruth. Determined to put up some resistance, to make it clear to these people that she was not just their plaything just there to do their bidding, she launched herself at him, her hands out, determined to scratch at his face and use her knees.

In a split second, she knew that she had misjudged the situation. Despite his apparent lethargy, Kim moved like lightning. Ruth never did work out the sequence of moves but , in a split second, she found herself pinned face down, across the bed, bereft of even the scant protection of the towel. Madam Karabengse swiftly moved between Ruth's legs, forcing them apart. Ruth flinched as she felt the woman's cold hands on her buttocks, squeezing them, kneading, spreading the cheeks wide so that everything was open to examination. She sobbed with frustration, shame and anger as Kim held her firmly down.

"OK," Madam Karabengse pronounced with some satisfaction. "You are not marked much at all. I think the Moon Balm did its work well. You will be ready for another lesson tonight. We shall leave you now to think about that but first, Kim will give you something to remember. You will learn not to make a fuss when I give you an order!"

She said something to her brother which was unintelligible to Ruth and Kim's hand, as hard as a board from martial arts training, whacked down on Ruth's bottom four times in rapid succession, twice on each cheek. It was so sudden and unexpected that Ruth squealed loudly, wriggling frantically in a fruitless effort to escape. Madam Karabengse went to Ruth's head and lifted the tear-stained face.

"You will obey quickly next time or Kim will not stop at four. You understand?"

No reply was necessary and Ruth felt the weight of Kim's other hand leave her body. She lay on the bed sobbing for some time after the housekeeper and her brother had left, the warmth of the spanking soaking into her. Eventually she tidied herself up, applied some of the ubiquitous balm, and tried to eat some food.

The rest of the day was a mixture of boredom and anticipation, interrupted briefly when Madam Karabengse and Luc brought her some lunch, sometime in the early afternoon. Ruth again resorted to the towel to cover her nakedness, despite the fact that they had seen all there was of her, and this time there was no additional trauma. Luc simply leered at Ruth from the doorway as the housekeeper exchanged the empty tray for the full one. Ruth stood back against the far wall, the big bath towel clenched tightly to her body, staring at Luc and trying not to think about what had happened the night before. The expression on his face left her in no doubt that he was remembering the same experience, and she sensed her knees weakening as she relived the sensation... The thought dominated her mind for the rest of the afternoon as she lay on the bed, listening to the various muted sounds which drifted up to her from various parts of the house.

Of Robin and Nicky there was neither sight or sound. Occasionally she got up to look out of the window, leaving the towel, on which she depended for some degree of modesty, on the bed. There was nothing to see. The priory was surrounded by thick woods, stretching back for a distance of several hundred yards on all sides, and she was too far from the road to see or hear any passing traffic.

Now, after being alone with her thoughts for so long, Ruth guessed that her wait must be coming to an end. The shadows of the trees were lengthening and she guessed that the afternoon was drawing to a close. She was sure that, whatever Robin and the Karabengse family had in store for her, it would not now be long before she found out. She suddenly felt a terrible urge to pee. The tension was unbelievable; a mixture of fear and sexual anticipation which added to her sense of humiliation and made every nerve in her body hypersensitive Every slight sound in the house made her jump. Was this the moment? Had the time come for her to be dragged downstairs again, naked and vulnerable? Right on cue, she heard footsteps outside the door and the familiar sound of the key in the lock. It was Kim, alone, who opened the door.

"You come now," he said sternly, holding out a hand. Ruth knew that is was no use to resist. She didn't want another hard on-the-spot spanking, so, clutching the towel tightly to her body with one hand, she grudgingly allowed him to take her other hand in his. With his free hand, he grasped the towel she was clutching desperately to her bosom, wrenched it away from her with ease, and hurled it to the floor.

"You won't be needing that, " he said.

There might be some hope for Ruth if Nicky managed to find the card and telephone Stephen without arousing Robin's suspicions. Will Tony and Stephen arrive in time? What is in store for the towelless Ruth?

Monday, May 15, 2017

kdpierre: Amazingly I cannot recall a single dream along these lines. Given my
interests and my age one would think a spanking dream would be
inevitable. However, my most consistently recurring dream is about
school! (and I graduated DECADES ago!)

Joe: The most memorable dream actually involved a woman I was seeing. There
was nothing sexual in our relationship, she was older and we just
enjoyed one another company. It included her best friend for reasons I
do not understand.

We were all staying at a beach house, I had decided
to get up early and walk along the beach naked. My friend had told me
secluded or not best not do anything stupid. Well both of them saw me,
both were standing there when I approached. You need a spanking my
friend told me with a smile, I looked at her and said you do not spank
and continue walking past her. Her friend took my ear, well I do young
man and soon I was across her lap in the kitchen. Like hell you bitch I
said and then the spanking began, I could feel it, I was soon kicking,
squirming and saying enough. When she did stop, she took me to the
bathroom, I had to pee and she watched, and then I had soap in my mouth.
I faced the wall, both talked, her friend told me to go get dress and
my punishment was not over.

Nothing happen until the next morning, both
were up and having coffee, Joyce looked at me and told me to come to
her, she pulled my pajama bottom down and looked at my bottom. See it
is still red young man, I said nothing. I went to pull them back up and
she stopped me. Change in our relationship and you best accept and
told me to get across her lap, I slowly did and to my shock she gave me a
sound spanking and I was a mess when I got up. My pajamas bottoms I
kicked off and she told me to hand her the tops and I did. Do you have
to pee young man, I nodded and she took me to the bathroom and watched.
Just before we left the bathroom she bent me over and landed several
more spanks and said I best improve or you will regret your trips over
my lap. Crying, we went back to the kitchen, I faced the wall. Her
friend asked her how she felt and she said really good. Will need to
stop off at a store going home, I will be needing a nice large
hairbrush. I woke up and I reached to rub my bottom.

Sir Wendel: On occasion my dreams will include someone getting a spanking whether it
is me, the misses or a total stranger. The scenes range from it being
the primary focus to someone in the background receiving a spanking.

Dr. Ken: I have had spanking dreams many times--that I can remember, anyway. I
probably had many more that I can't recall at all. Many of the dreams
are frustrating--they'll end just as I'm getting her across my knee, or
lifting her skirt, or where I'll threaten to spank her and then never
get the chance to do so. None of them stand out as being particularly
memorable, although I did have one recently about a lady I know on the
East Coast that I'm still in contact with but haven't seen or spanked in
years. She did get a good spanking in the dream, so it seemed more like
a pleasant memory than a dream.

sam: I have dreamed several times about an event that happened when I was a boy. My cousin and I were visiting our grandparents.

My gramps caught the two of us jerking off behind the shrubs at the end of their property. Both of us were spanked bare assed. First me as I was oldest then my cousin. We both had bruises for several days after. More than once I have woken in tears.

Hermione: I have had dreams about spanking in the past, usually given by someone who would never do so in real life, but sometimes administered by Ron. I can't recall any specifics; the main thing I notice is that they never actually hurt.

Baxter: Her significant other was always praising the rear end of his VW, where
we all know the engine was. Her plan was to have him praise HER rear end
by standing naked and see what happened. Well, what happened was she
got a spanking for standing naked in public and she was ok with that as
he was, in effect, praising her rear end. She hoped for much more such
praise, since it was such a turn on.

ricky: Oh yes, we are forgetting something!Now don't tell me, I've got it . . . Just give me a few minutes . . .Err, can I get back to you?

Jackie: My body left me many years ago, but in our day my best friend and I
drove across country in a VW. We did just this, out in the country, no
one around, we took several pictures of each other, naked. Thankful to
have a very good friend to develop the pictures. We were just girls
living life freely.

Ronnie: Oh come on Roy, you promised me a spanking if I let you take pictures of me nude.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Our story took a very dark turn last week, when Ruth awakened to find herself at the mercy of the students she had caned as well as the staff of Damocles Priory. Now the shoe is on the other foot and the young people are going to extract their revenge. There was also mention of sending Ruth to work in a brothel in Thailand, but first there are two canings to get through.

Ruth lowered her eyes from the vicious-looking cane. It was considerably heavier and more knotted than the one she had used on Nicky, and she recalled with a shiver just what her pupil's bottom had looked like at the end of her punishment.

"You both deserved what you got," she hissed defiantly at her tormentor. "That was legitimate school discipline; you deserved to be punished and the slate was wiped clean as a result. This is criminal kidnapping."

"I'm not going to argue with you. From what I saw and heard on Mould's video tapes, I'm launching you on a career at which you could excel. In fact, I may even be doing you a favour! Anyhow, you gave Nicky a total of eight stripes, so that's exactly what she's going to give you in return. Then we'll give you five minutes or so to recover, and then I'm going to give you back the six that your interference cost me. I'm going to imagine it's that scumbag Fullerton's scrawny backside I'm aiming at rather than your cute and shapely little bottom, so you can be sure there will be no mercy. Every stroke is going to count, believe me!"

As he finished his speech, Ruth tried frantically to wriggle free of her bonds. The memory of her birching at the hands of Reverend Mould was all too recent in her mind, and she could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat as the sentence was pronounced. Pulling at the straps merely hurt her wrists and ankles and made her breasts swing uncomfortably beneath her. The restraints were far too effective for her to have any chance of escape.

Ruth's efforts to wrench herself free, and her concentration on Robin's words, left her unaware of Nicky taking up a position behind and to the left of her. Unused to her task, Nicky made no preliminary sighting taps on Ruth's buttocks. She just drew back the cane and delivered a stinging swipe, striking horizontally, making fortunate contact right across the central curve of her target.

Ruth was still struggling when the line of fire slashed across her upturned bottom. She had not even heard the warning swish of the approaching cane. The shock of the impact, followed a split second later by the burning sensation in her bottom, caused her to throw her head back, her mouth open, the air expelled from her lungs in a hoarse gasp.

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Jamieson, but you did hurt me a lot, and I didn't really deserve such a severe beating. I think you know that, don't you?" Nicky's voice was uncertain and apologetic.

I'm damned if I'll squeal, Ruth thought, gritting her teeth as she heard the swish of the cane, warning her that the second stroke was on its way. Her determination was just sufficient to last out as Nicky inexpertly caned her bottom. After that first stroke, Ruth sensed that the youngster was not actually putting her full force into each stroke, but, nonetheless, the whippy rattan was more than sufficient to remind Ruth that she had indeed realised that her punishment of Nicky had been too severe. Again and again the rattan swished and cracked across her quivering bottom. Ruth tried to distract her mind from the pain by silently counting the strokes.

She had reached a count of eight when she heard the cane drop to the floor with a clatter, followed by the sound of running footsteps. This would have puzzled her had she not been too preoccupied with her own discomfort to think about anything else. Ruth allowed herself to go limp. It did nothing to relieve the smarting pain which seared through her bottom, but made her position just a little more bearable. The temperature of her bottom seemed to be still rising, even though the caning had ceased.

As she cautiously tried to work out which bits hurt the most, Ruth was thankful that Nicky, in her inexperience, had concentrated her efforts on the fleshier part of her backside. She was able to recall, all too easily, what it had felt like when the birch had worked its way down across the crease of her buttocks and on to her thighs. She did not think she could have maintained her silence if the heavy cane had made contact there. Nicky had placed her strokes in a random pattern all over Ruth's tightly restrained bottom, which now felt as if a blow-lamp had been applied to it. She felt a searing heat, with sharper individual pinpricks of pain where the welts had crossed one another.

A hard, rough-skinned hand brushed the inside of her thigh, reminding Ruth that, although Robin appeared to have left the room, the three Thais were still there, impassive and silent as ever. One of the men, she could not tell which, was behind her now. Fresh dimensions of horror churned in her mind as the hand relentlessly slid up between her widely spread legs. She squirmed and wriggled furiously, having exactly the opposite effect to what she intended, as the clenching of her bottom cheeks momentarily squeezed the intruding fingers.

"Master Robin was right." The heavily accented voice of Kim came from behind her. "She is enjoying her beating and becoming wet. This one will do very well in our 'house' in Bangkok."

The confirmation of her intended fate drew a sob from Ruth. Robin Henderson had sold her into some form of white slavery and she was doomed to end her days in a Bangkok brothel. For the first time since her abduction, fear took over from anger as her dominant reaction.

"Enough of that!" Robin had returned to the room. His voice was sharp, the edge of command still evident. "I told you - no handling the merchandise until I have finished with her. Then you can do what you like."

Ruth felt a hand under her chin, lifting her head, and found herself staring at her youthful tormentor.

"Now there's another score to settle," he snarled, his lip curling as he spoke. "Nicky has suddenly gone all squeamish and locked herself in her room. She says she doesn't want to see the rest of your punishment and even says to tell you she's sorry."

Ruth felt a small pang of hope. Perhaps Nicky might help her after all. If only she doesn't leave it too late, she thought, more to keep her spirits up than with any real conviction.

"I'm not a bit sorry, though, and I'm going to enjoy hearing you scream. You kept quiet when Nicky was caning you, but now you're dealing with a different proposition. I'm going to make you squeal, believe me. You'll be travelling to Thailand standing upright with your arse burning like a coal fire when I've finished with you, you'll see!"

"Do take care, Master Robin," Madam Karabengse spoke. "Take care not to damage the merchandise in your enthusiasm or we will have to reduce her price."

Ruth felt a hysterical desire to laugh at the sudden concern for her welfare.

"Don't worry, Madam K. I am only going to give her the traditional English six of the best - but I'm going to make them bloody good ones! We've been dishing that kind of treatment out to our better-off kids for centuries and nobody died! She's going to be pretty damned sore all right, but nothing worse."

He gave a cynical laugh as he moved round behind Ruth. Feeling the cane resting lightly across her bottom, Ruth willed herself to relax. She knew that what was coming was going to hurt and, with that knowledge, butterflies began to flutter inside her tummy and a surge of electricity coursed between her legs. She could feel a film of perspiration forming all over her body. The only thing she could do was let herself go limp, take what was coming, and try to let the tension escape. This time there would be no gritting of teeth; far better to let the yell come out.

The volume of sound as she screamed startled even Ruth. Robin must have learned his lessons extremely well from watching the Reverend's videos. His first stroke had landed low down on Ruth's bottom, exactly where her thighs and cheeks met. He had judged the swing perfectly, so that almost the entire length of the cane had made contact at the same instant, and her bottom cheeks had been lifted by the impact, before dropping back into place. The pain sank in, like a wave rolling up a shingle beach, gathering force as it came. It started as a localised pain at the point of impact but, as the seconds ticked away, its effects began to spread through her entire body.

Fully twenty seconds later, the fierce crack of wood on plump flesh, followed by another piercing scream, echoed around the high ceiling. Ruth broke down into sobs as she felt her buttocks quiver with the aftershocks of the second stroke. Although this phase of her torment only lasted for another eighty or ninety seconds, it was the longest and most agonising minute and a half of Ruth's life. Robin Henderson was very young, strong and fit, and his aim was near perfect, as was his timing. He placed each stroke just a fraction above the preceding one, so that each individual cut was felt, but, during the agonising wait between each blow, the sharply defined bands of fire blended into one throbbing, burning ache.

Ruth tried to count the strokes, to reassure herself that it was nearly over, that there were only four left, then three, then two, but it didn't help, and in any case she lost count after three. Had she not been so securely restrained, she would surely have fallen from the bench, the frantic threshing of her body being strong enough to make the wooden legs squeak on the polished floor.

"Now then, you bitch, try and sit down after that, if you can." Robin's voice was triumphant. "I'm going to leave you with Madam K and her brothers now. You should think yourself lucky. The good news for you is that we are going to let you have some Moon Balm on your bottom, a benefit Nicky and I never had after we got caned. The bad news for you is that tomorrow we are going to do this all over again!"

Ruth slumped, as much as her bonds would allow, her body wracked with sobs. The pain in her bottom was intense, but her mental agony was even more acute. The fact that her abuse had been carried out by her own former pupils made her humiliation all the more complete. She had been determined to retain at least some composure, preserve some shreds of dignity, so that when the worst was over she could retain her own self-esteem. But even that had been denied her. Robin had been strong enough, and expert enough, to break down her barriers of self-control completely. There was nothing left.

For several minutes, Ruth was left alone with her thoughts, the fire in her buttocks gradually subsiding from the level of fierce flames to a sensation akin to glowing coals. Then she became aware, dimly, of movements around her, and of voices speaking in an unfamiliar language. A hand touched her bottom and she flinched as the contact sent a new tongue of flame darting up the nerves of her spine. Madam Karabengse was bending over her, rubbing, massaging and Ruth was gratefully aware that the agony in her buttocks was being soothed away.

As the incredible ointment did its work and the pain in her backside ebbed away, Ruth became aware of other sensations, suppressed while the immediate effects of the caning had held her attention, but stimulated now by the housekeeper's deft fingers massaging her bottom, working the unguent into her throbbing gluteal muscles. The memory of Kim's finger probing the outer edges of her pussy returned. At that point, before Robin's sadistic beating had driven all such thoughts from her mind, Ruth had known that Kim's observation on her state of arousal had been correct. The shame of that knowledge returned to her now, together with the realisation that, as she had bucked and squirmed under the cane's metronomic stimulus, she had been grinding her pubic mound ever more firmly into the rough material of the padding which supported her. She could feel that her clitoris was as hard as a walnut, and she cursed her own body for betraying her so disgracefully.

Suddenly, Madam Karabengse's hand was no longer at Ruth's bottom.

"You are ready now, I think, for training." Madam Karabengse's voice was in her ear again.

What follows next in the original is a graphic description of several sexual acts that are not at all consensual, although Ruth does seem to enjoy them very much. I will leave them to your imagination and resume when the activities have concluded.

The intensity of her climax must have been the final straw in Ruth's weakened state for she blacked out. When she came back to her senses, she was being carried, unceremoniously, draped over the shoulder of one of the brothers, towards the bedrooms which she and the others had occupied on their first visit to Damocles Priory. She allowed herself to be dumped on the bed, and did not betray the fact that she had come round, fearing further assault. She need not have worried for Kim, whom she recognised through half-closed eyes, turned abruptly, left the room, noisily locking the door behind him.

Alone at last, Ruth turned face down on her bed and began to cry.

White slavery? Oh dear, that is definitely not something that I wish to discuss here on this blog. Let's hope that she will manage to escape that fate. Somehow, I think she will find a way.